Perceptions of Light
by absurdvampmuse
Summary: Post "Alone". Beth escapes.(without killing Gorman). /She & Daryl find their way back to one another. Before things can go back to how they were, they need to deal with the loose ends./"She ain't yours," Daryl spat out the words gratingly. Gorman laughed, the deep timbre of it making her feel sick."My my. Is this why you put up such a fight? You were already someone else's?"


**Disclaimer: I don't own the TV show _The Waking Dead_ or any of its character. All I own is my imagination and the laptop I wrote this on.**

 **A/N:** So, I was late to jump on the Walking Dead bandwagon, to say the least. I only recently finished watching all five seasons. And in the process I fell in love with the Beth and Daryl pairing. I interpreted their scenes as there being chemistry between them and possibly a future relationship. Now, I knew beforehand that Beth would die (due to reading fanfiction), but I was still crushed when I watched that particular episode. After everything she'd gone through. In my mind, she made it out alive. This story is based on that idea. It's my first try at a Walking Dead story, so I know I probably don't have the language down completely. I hope you'll enjoy it and it can add to keeping Beth alive in this fanfiction universe.

* * *

 **Perceptions of Light**

 _"And I can't see the world I'm walking through, because all I still see is you…"_

Just as unexpectedly as he had lost her, he found her.

He was in the thick of trees when he heard twigs snap and leaves rustle. Signs of carelessness while his guard was impossibly high up. He didn't expect to see her. Ever again if he was honest with himself, despite his best effort at still following in the direction of where he had last caught a glimpse of her. The quickest of snapshots of her golden strands as they gleamed once more beneath the unrelenting sun and a final flash of cornflower blue. Or that was what he had imagined he would have seen if he had been even a few seconds faster. That was how precious time really was. Here one second and gone the next.

It was in honor of her and her incontestable positivity that he kept going, even in defiance of his own beliefs. So when he saw her again in the woods, he figured he must have been hallucinating. He didn't drink enough that day or walked too far beneath the heavy rays… She didn't belong, not in what looked to be a nurse's outfit. It had to be chalked up to a badly timed fantasy. But then she sighed his name and his hold on his crossbow wavered.

"Daryl."

Her knees buckled and she collapsed onto them.

It was only when he took a tentative step towards her that he registered the rest of her appearance: the cut on her cheek, accompanied by the one on her lip and the bruises along her temple. Her fingers shook as she curled them into the ground before her and his pace instantly accelerated. He was there, crouching by her side within a second. "Beth," he said her name, putting down his bow and tipping his chin slightly downwards so he could look into the eyes he had missed so much.

" 's me… I promise." She attempted a reassuring smile. "I escaped."

Daryl's absorption with the moment and with her was shoved forcibly aside as he refocused his hearing and instantly increased his alertness. She hadn't exactly been loud, even sneaking up on him, but they needed to move. His thought process was a quick one as he swept up his bow and slung it across one shoulder. "I know a place." He snaked an arm around her waist, intending to help her up and keep her there, but as soon as he tightened his grip enough to tug her upwards, she hissed and her hands flew over to where he was holding onto her.

"Y' hurt." It wasn't a question and she nodded, too tired to hide the state she was currently in.

"How bad?" he asked while he adjusted his grip, his fingertips having found different places to put pressure as he helped her up this time.

"Not bad," she lied through gritted teeth as they began to walk.

"Mhmm."

They were silent as he guided them through the trees, although he had enough questions for her. Ones he wanted answers to. In this version of the world, the answers mattered. He tried to be mindful of her and whatever injuries she might have when setting the pace - something he had almost unlearned -,but she kept up. It was only when they halted in front of the one story house with the chipped cream paint that he felt her lean her weight against him more heavily. "Been here before. 's clear," he said the words, although both of them knew that a lot could change in less than a few hours, let alone in a handful of days. They couldn't risk being careless, even though she understood the kindness behind it. So she made the decision easy on him as she grasped onto the railing of the steps leading up to the small porch. "Y' should do a sweep. Better safe than sorry. Right?"

He nodded, reluctantly removing his arm from around her so he could position his bow. He unclasped a knife from his belt and handed it to her. She took it without question. "Go on. I'll holler if I get into any trouble."

"Uh huh." She offered him up a smile that was supposed to be brave and encouraging, but he saw through it. It was something that had developed over the short time they had spent together. The ability to tell whenever the bright gleam of positivity that was innate to her was contrived. Still, he went up the porch steps, moving swiftly once he was through the door.

When he returned, the girl hadn't moved from where he had left her, nor had she let go of the railing. She was clutching onto that harder than she was the knife, able to grip more tightly because it was her uninjured side. Or he hoped there wasn't more damage she was keeping from him. She handed off the knife to him quickly so she could grab the railing with both hands, needing it to pull herself up the steps without visibly grimacing or wincing.

"At the rate y' goin' we'll be here 'till nightfall," he murmured to her. Him placing down his crossbow the only readable sign before he was at her side, slipping his hands over her skin in a tender manner before putting any pressure and lifting her off her feet and into his arms, bridal style.

She gasped at the sudden move and the immediate familiarity that followed. She slung one arm around his neck while her other hand pulled at the fabric of his vest. " y' sure you ain't no fallen angel, Mr. Dixon?" she wondered out loud, blaming the unfiltered words on her weariness and exhilaration at actually having found him.

He didn't respond at her nonsense, although he did hold onto her a little more securely as he carried her inside. He bent forwards some to lower her onto the sofa, feeling how she held onto him for a few more seconds than necessary. "Thank you," she said softly against him before letting go.

Their eyes were on each other for a moment longer before he left her to retrieve his things. He barricaded the door before appearing in the doorframe once more, brow creased and arms crossed as he regarded her. He was the one to broke the silence with, "What happened to ya, Greene?"

"I was taken."

"Y' know I was right behind ya…"

She shook her head, not needing the apology because it wasn't his fault. He saw her as his responsibility, but it was nothing but chance that brought them together. She was his as much as he was hers. "It ain't your fault. They were quick about it."

"Do 'y remember where…"

She nodded before he could finish his question. "Grady Memorial Hospital. Ironically, it wasn't safe. No place really is, I suppose." She clasped her hands together nervously at the memories, the fabric of her clothes rustling and noticeably unsettling her. "I want these off," she declared to him. She didn't wait for him to approve, though he was by her side instantly to help her up.

"There's a bathroom down here," he shared with her as he lead her out of the living room and into a short hallway. Once she was steady at the sink, he stepped out of the small space, not wanting to crowd her. It was what he would want and since he didn't have any other experience looking after someone like this, it would have to do. She was vocal enough to let him know if he was missing anything. "I reckon there'll be clothes upstairs. Don't go nowhere."

She met his gaze in the mirror. He was worried, no matter how much he was trying to mask it. "Kay."

When she heard him ascend the stairs, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was still in that stupid ponytail. She undid it, her movements not calculated enough as she flinched at the throbbing pain in her side. She stored the elastic around her wrist, her hair forgotten as she reached for the edge of her shirt. She lifted it up slowly, not caring about how much of her skin was on display even when Daryl walked in on her. She trusted him enough and he would keep his distance unless she sought something else out. It used to annoy her, frustrate her even, but now she welcomed it.

He dropped a stack of clothes on the closed toilet, as well a towel and a bottle of water. Since there was no running water, it would have to do. " 's all I could find. It ain't practical, but it's clean."

She nodded, trying to stand taller on her tiptoes so she could catch a glimpse of her side in the mirror. But it was hung up too high and the stretching hurt. So she sighed and lowered the soles of her feet back down. She turned sideways so Daryl had a full view of her revealed side. Biting her lip as she prepared for the worst, she glanced over at him. "Well?"

He moved closer to her, filling up the remainder of the small room with his frame as his eyes did a quick scan of her side. It was bruised, so much so that a circle of blue and purple colored a large part of her skin. He reached out and brushed his fingers across her side. Gradually he began applying more pressure, not stopping until her bottom lip slipped free from where she had been biting it and whimpered. "How'd it happen?"

She turned her eyes from him as she answered. "I was kicked. Didn't cooperate."

"What'd they ask you to do?"

Beth shrugged. "Don't matter. I'm here now."

She felt the anger as it radiated off him and she circled his wrist with her fingers as if to affirm her statement. "Daryl, tell me how bad it is," she redirected his attention.

"Y' ribs are bruised. We'll rest here for a couple a days." He nodded at the towel and bottle of water. "Clean y'self up."

She nodded, her fingers squeezing his wrist one last time before releasing it. He left the door cracked behind him so he could hear her while he saw about dinner. It was his way of showing her that it indeed mattered to him that she was back. Her faint sobs filled up the living room soon after and the anger he had felt before violently bubbled back up, but he balled his fists and kept it from spilling over. He couldn't take how he was feeling out on anyone but her and she was the last person who deserved the darker side of him. She had already borne witness to it more than she should.

He had the fireplace going and pillows and blankets strewn in front of it when she emerged, looking more like herself in the white flowing knee-length dress with the long sleeves that slipped off her shoulders because it was slightly too big on her. She had yet to put her hair back up and her feet were vulnerably bare. She placed her boots beside the couch before she joined him on the floor, all the while still keeping a respectful distance between them. She had to get used to it again. So did he.

He let out an appreciative grumble but looked away when she looked at him questioningly, as if she had caught him doing something inappropriate. He held out the can of beans to her that he had just opened, but she shook her head. "I ain't hungry enough. Just tired." She absentmindedly pulled a pillow onto her lap. "Been running ever since I made it outside."

He took a bite of the cold beans. "What was it like?"

"Like a community. The person in charge had a way o' runnin' things that…" She pushed the pillow off her lap. "They said I owed 'em now that they'd saved me. Patched me up."

Daryl scoffed and took another bite, though it was more a diversion tactic than anything else. If he pretended not to be as interested as he really was, then maybe he could keep her talking.

"The more I got, the more I owed 'em. The place, the people… were off. Figured I belonged to them now."

"Y' where ya belong."

"Told you you'd miss me when I'm gone."

He shrugged up one of his shoulders while he kept eating, though his eyes couldn't help but be pulled to hers.

"Would it be alright if I took the second watch?"

" 's fine by me." He flicked his fingers at the pillows around them. "Enough to build a damn fort."

She smiled at that, crawling over to him on her hands and knees. He simply took one more bite, finished the can, as if it were the most normal sight. But to his own ears his heart seemed to pound louder.

"I need to be near you. Just for tonight."

A mischievous twinkle momentarily lit up his eyes and she could have sworn that she saw the right top corner of his lips twitch. He kept his eyes intimately on her, watching as she settled herself in between the pillows until she was comfortable. Her fingers brushed against his leg and she moved them upwards to curl beneath her head. She reached for a blanket just as he did, his hand fitting completely over hers. She let hers rest there for a few seconds before shyly pulling back, although the warmth of his touch was still there. She pulled her knees up a little so they were closer to him.

"You don't need t' explain y'self," he proclaimed while throwing the blanket over them both so she would feel cocooned and protected, although they both knew that hiding under the covers wouldn't keep them out of harm's way. Still, it was the gesture that counted. " 'sides, I'd like t' keep ya closeby after all y've gone through." He folded the blanket back a little, her eyes seeming even brighter and bluer illuminated by only the fire. "Y' can tell me." He stared into the flames. "I ain't the most sensitive man on the planet, but there's no need to be so damn secretive."

"I know." She swallowed, her hand trembling for the slightest second as she placed it palm upwards against his thigh. "I know you just want to protect me, but I can't talk 'bout all o' it… Yet anyway."

He nodded. "Fair enough." He glanced down at her, his fingers lacing through hers. "Get some sleep."

She closed her eyes and he didn't let go of her.

* * *

The next morning, by the time she woke up, the fire had burned out and sunlight was streaming through whatever cracks weren't completely covered up. Pulling her hand to her chest, she noted Daryl's absence. It didn't alert her since his bow was also no longer on the couch. She figured he was out catching breakfast and processing her return. He liked to do things like that in solitary. So she stayed where she was, after throwing a quick glance over at her boots and the knife he had left besides it. Just in case.

She was thinking about getting up when a knock on the door startled her. She crawled over to her boots, clutching the knife but releasing it when she heard his voice calling to her. "Beth! Give me a hand, will ya?!" he urged her.

For a second it crossed her mind that he was being louder than he was supposed to be, but it was forgotten by the time she had slipped on her boots, tucking the knife inside one of them. "Coming!"

Opening the door, she saw the look on Daryl's face that said the words he couldn't have. But it was too late to close the door, nor would she leave him.

Gorman had a gun pressed against Daryl's temple and one of his arrows against his neck. "You want to work something out now, Bethy?" His grin instantly unsettled her and harshly reminded her that safety was always temporary in this world. "And really think about it," Gorman continued. "Because your rebellion will kill one of yours this time." He pressed down with his hand and drew blood with the head of the arrow. Daryl gritted his teeth and his knuckles turned white from how tight he had his fists balled, but he made no sound. For a stray second Beth wondered if it had anything to do with his upbringing and the scars on his back, which she had only managed to sneak a look at during the rare times when he had lowered his guard enough. She met his eyes, seeing the emotions that she was sure were mirrored in her own. Still, the fear was the one that rose above all the other emotions and won. It was unbearable. "Don't," was her plea to the cop across from her.

"I won't." It was an empty promise. "Not if you're a good little girl and invite me in… so I can get mine."

"She ain't yours," Daryl spat out the words gratingly.

Gorman laughed, the deep timbre of it making her feel sick.

"My my. Is this why you put up such a fight? You were already someone else's to put their hands on."

All color drained from her face and she had trouble getting out her next breath. Her arms wrapped protectively around her own stomach, though it was only a gesture and wouldn't do anything more.

Daryl made an attempt to move, but Gorman pressed the barrel of the gun painfully against his skull, his eyes never leaving her. "Don't worry. We'll tie you up and let you watch," he threw out the words quickly at Daryl before directing his next comment at the blond in front of him. "You can even pretend…"

"Why do you need to do this?"

Gorman cocked his head sideways while shrugging up one shoulder. "Because this is how it works. I provided you with the service of saving your life and now you owe me one."

"I didn't need saving," Beth retorted.

Gorman moved closer. "I beg to differ, Bethy," he told her before entering the house, kicking the door closed behind them. He nudged Daryl forwards unexpectedly and roughly grabbed Beth. The gun was against her head before Daryl could do anything about it. Gorman's hand soon followed, running up her side and cheek, the arrow long forgotten on the floor.

She turned her head. "Please, stop."

He ignored her, his eyes on Daryl before he could reach his bow. "Sit on the chair." He nuzzled Beth's neck, his fingers uncomfortable around her wrist as he kept her in place. "I won't tell you again." He pulled the gun from Beth's head and aimed it at the other man.

Daryl eyed his bow again and mumbled something vile before doing as he was told. Gorman pushed Beth forwards and towards Daryl. She roughly landed on her knees, her eyes big as she braced herself on Daryl's knee with one hand, needing the contact.

Gorman snickered, dropping something besides her. "All I want is for you to tie him up." She reached for the piece of wire and began winding it around Daryl's wrists, her shoulders flinching upwards when Gorman began winding one of her curls around his finger.

"Men like you deserve the worst kinda death. One I'm more than happy to provide," Daryl threatened the cop, his tone as vicious as the look that accompanied it.

Gorman pulled Beth back up, gun once again to her head as he pulled the wire tighter with his other hand. Daryl let out a groan and Beth couldn't stop the disapproving whimper from escaping. "You're hurting him."

Gorman sighed, pulling her with him as he lead them to the blankets and pillows on the floor, angling them both so Daryl could see them even better. Gorman released the girl, though his gun remained trained on her, while his eyes flicked from her to Daryl continuously. "Get on the floor," he demanded. "On your back."

The chair creaked as Daryl intended to get up, the wire leaving behind marks on his wrists as he pulled at them. Gorman directed his gun at him and fired a shot. It didn't hit Daryl, but the leg of the chair. Beth yelped and dropped onto her knees, pleading Daryl with her eyes not to make things worse and do any of the things that he had on his mind right now.

Daryl sat back down, not able to watch as Beth lay down where she had slept beside him last night. But when Gorman straddled her, positioning his gun against her temple while he began running his lips down her neck and collarbone, Beth turned her head, looking to Daryl to keep her from slipping under. He tried to keep himself in check as he met her gaze, the fear she was feeling even paralyzing to him.

Gorman grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look at him instead. "You better play along. For his sake. And for god's sake no tears. Those are a real turn-off."

" 'Cause the rape itself ain't, you twisted son o' bitch."

Gorman paused his actions to aim the gun at Daryl. "Make me believe it, girl, or I'll shut him up. For good," he added. "And then you'll just have me."

Beth swallowed a sob and nodded. "Okay."

This time when Gorman touched her, she didn't flinch, her eyes on Daryl as she tried to keep herself calm so she could think. She tried not to focus on where Gorman's hands and lips were. She looked around the room, her eyes landing on the beaten up sofa with Daryl's bow on it. It clicked in her mind and she willingly shifted, her feet flat against the floor as she pulled her knees up, feeling Gorman against her everywhere now.

She turned her head, looking up at the man on top of her. "There we go," Gorman said, lowering his head so he could press his lips against hers. Beth attempted to keep the tension out of her limbs as her fingers found her boot. She pulled the knife out quickly and slashed out even faster, sticking it in his side and sliding it between his ribs. The same spot where he had kicked her and that was throbbing underneath his weight.

Gorman yelled out, once more when she pulled the knife out and pushed him with all the strength she could muster. He rolled off her, dropping the gun as both his hands went for his side. She kicked it aside clumsily with her foot as she got to Daryl on her hands and knees, her own hand clutching her side from the strain she was putting on her injury. She cut through the wires and Daryl was up immediately.

Beth tried catching her breath as she got up, blindly making her way to the door with the knife still in her hand. She heard the shots and the screams, but didn't turn around. The noise would most likely draw walkers to what could have been a safe haven, at least temporarily, so they had to get moving. She heard Daryl's footsteps soon enough as he caught up with her easily, not having to say out loud that they had to leave this behind.

* * *

They had been walking for a while, crisscrossing through the trees and not speaking to one another. The white shade of hers dress was severe beneath the sunlight, although she was thankful that the fabric was loose and didn't pull at her side. The throbbing had stopped, even though her ribs were still tender to the touch. It was something she didn't voice, but she knew he was keeping pace with her and not the other way around.

She felt him shift besides her as he reached out for her arm, but she twisted her body before he could, avoiding his touch. It would be too much of a contrast between what she had been through and what he was intending. "Don't, Daryl."

She stopped walking and so did he. "What he was talkin' 'bout… What you owed him. Was this… Has he…" Daryl ran a hand over his face, not sure if he could keep his anger from flaring up and out at her if the answer didn't suit him.

"Just say it. No need to be worried about being' delicate now. You never have been before," she finished under her breath. She didn't really mean it, but she didn't know how else to cope with it all. She was bursting at the seams.

"Careful, Bethy," he reacted. It was meant to be sarcastic, a badly timed joke to lighten the mood of something that couldn't be. He regretted it as he saw the hurt pass over her features and her body flinch. She stepped away from him, but he grabbed her. "Not before y' tell me," he announced, tucking his chin downwards a little so he could keep their eyes locked. "The way he touched you, what he was after-"

"No," she cut him off quickly. "He never got any farther than putting his hands on me. I fought him and got away before he could. Is the answer satisfactory, Mr. Dixon?" She held her own chin up in a challenging manner, her sleeve slipping down and baring her shoulder.

It was too much, another reminder of what almost happened to her under his watch. Another bad thing to feel guilty about. "Y' should cover y'self up more."

It was an inane remark, but she still reacted. Her eyes narrowed. "That doesn't matter."

"I wasn't-" he began backtracking, but it was too late. The damage was done and this time he was at fault. She pulled her arm free. "You were about to. I wasn't askin' for it, Daryl!" She shoved against his chest with one balled fist. "Is that what you think when you see me like this."

"Beth…"

She shook her head. "I fought," she repeated her earlier words, her eyes shimmering with the tears that were slowly gathering. "You weren't there."

"I thought you didn't need savin'."

She briefly looked away, running the back of her hand across her eyes. They were watery when they found him once more. "I did from him. And you weren't there to keep him from putting his hands on me, from saying the things he did. I stabbed him."

"I killed him," Daryl countered, taking a step forwards and keeping her from running. "Hey," he softened his tone, encircling his fingers around her wrist and pulling her into him. She pushed against his chest hard with both hands. "You weren't there to protect me when I couldn't do it myself."

She pushed again and his other hand landed on the one she had braced against his chest. "I'm sorry. I tried trackin' ya."

"I found you," she said, accusing him of something that she knew wasn't true.

"Beth, please," he said, the roughness in his voice cracking. There were tears in her eyes and his were glazed over. His hold on her was a strong one. "Don't y' think it ate me up inside. Even worse now I know what you ran from. I didn't sleep," he went on. "I looked e'rywhere I could think of and you findin' me… I ain't no religious man, but…"

"Maybe I wanted it more. Tried harder," she whispered to him, her fingers pulling at the fabric of his vest.

Daryl tugged her against him, one hand on her wrist and the other coming up to tangle in her hair. "If you findin' me means you win, then I concede. It ain't happenin' again," he assured her, making her a promise he would keep no matter what unimaginable things it would take.

She pressed her face against his chest and inhaled his smell, her arms coming around his waist to hug him back. "I forgot what it was to feel safe," she admitted to him. "God, Daryl, I don't want us to yell. I just want us to be. For new memories to replace the ugly ones."

Daryl brushed his chin against her hair. "I missed y', Greene. So much."

Beth tilted her head upwards while he bowed his, their foreheads touching. She took a breath and he waited. "I'm ready," she let him know.

They let go of one another, but he laced his fingers with hers - _like last night_ \- before they continued going.

* * *

 **Please review? :)** I would love to hear your thoughts on this, so please leave behind a review. And if you've come across a good Bethyl story that I haven't gotten to yet or missed, please add the title in the comment? Thanks for reading.


End file.
